Reverence
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Set in the aftermath of 8.8. R/H.


**I woke up on Saturday with the urge to write and in the spare hour before work managed to scribble this fic down. It's set after 8.8 and assumes that emergency service personnel were also caught up in the bomb blast. **

**Thanks to Em for the beta. Feedback is greatly appreciated.**

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"Harry." Her sweet voice rung out across the dimmed office and Harry lifted his eyes from the paperwork sprawled over his desk to find her hovering just inside the doorway. "Harry, it's time to go home and get some rest."

He was slightly surprised by the confidence of her stance and the conviction of her tone, but then realised that he probably shouldn't be. This Ruth Evershed, the one that had returned to him, was no longer the shy and retiring woman he once knew. The change suited her, he thought, and it only made him want her more. He pushed the thought aside quickly, feeling guilty for even contemplating the matters of his heart after they'd lost the Home Secretary. After they'd lost Ros.

His eyes lowered back to the files in front of him and he picked up his pen. "I think I'll stick at it for a little while longer."

Ruth watched as he determinedly ignored her and started making short notes on the notepad on his desk, and had to bite down on her instinct to turn away and leave him alone as she would have once done. Instead, she took a few steps further inside until she was level with his desk and infringing on his personal space.

"You can't do any more tonight, Harry," she said, softly, and reached a hand down to briefly touch the fingers of his left hand. He looked at her then, and she could see his annoyance with her was masking the pain and the sorrow he felt. "Harry," she breathed, imploringly.

"I'm ok," he murmured, voice laced with emotion.

She nodded and gave him a flicker of a smile. "People have been leaving things at the blast site all day. I was thinking about stopping by on my way home." His head tilted to one side as he appraised her silently. "Come with me." Her whisper sent a shiver down his spine and he felt powerless to resist her request.

Wordlessly, she collected his coat from the stand in the corner and passed it to him as he came out from behind the desk. He felt her eyes watch his every move as he eased his coat on and felt his pulse quicken as her fingers curled, momentarily, around his left bicep in a familiar gesture of comfort.

"Thank you," she mouthed, as her eyes captured and held his.

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It was falling dark as they made their way to the car and Harry instructed his driver where to take them. They sat in silence together, in the back of the car, each of them gazing out of the window in between small glances at the other when they felt it was safe to do so. Ruth could see the tension in Harry's profile as she looked at him and she knew that he was desperately trying to hold it together. She had always been fascinated with how he was seemingly able to switch his emotions off to get the job done but, recently, the cracks had started to show. Their time at the hands of Mani had been the starting point, and she feared that Ros's death might be the final straw.

"What the-" Harry's soft murmur brought her out of her thoughts and she managed to shift her gaze to look out of his window to see what had captured his attention. All at once, she felt her breath catch in her throat as the emotions swirled in her body. Hundreds of candles flickered in the evening breeze and gave off just enough illumination for her to be able to see the flowers, wreathes and cards that had been placed haphazardly along one of the Police barriers.

Harry reached for the door and pushed it open, mesmerised by the scene in front of him. People milled around in front of him, close to the barriers: some talking quietly with one another, voices dulled to a respectful murmur; others embraced one another and took comfort from the arms of strangers as well as friends and some stood alone, heads bowed in silent contemplation. Slowly, Harry moved towards the barriers, feeling himself pulled towards the hastily erected shrine to those lost in the blast. He didn't need to look to know that Ruth was standing beside him and, shoulder to shoulder, they stared in wonder at the offerings that had been left.

As a rule, he wasn't really one to go in for public demonstrations of emotion, but he couldn't deny the comfort his battered soul received as he took in the heartfelt declarations of love, genuine sorrow and quiet defiance his fellow citizens had littered the area with. The spook in him had made him cynical over the years and he had witnessed, often first hand, the horrors that human beings could do to one another. This quiet, almost reverent, display of strength and compassion served to remind him of what he was fighting for. It didn't make the losses any less painful but it helped to focus his mind and strengthen his resolve to see Nightingale crushed. There would be more from them, of that he was certain, but they wouldn't win; he'd see to that.

Breathing deeply through his emotions, Harry turned his attention to the woman standing by his side and felt his heart ache as he watched her cry. He hated that she had been dragged back into an existence that was filled with pain and deceit, but he couldn't quash the joy in his heart at having her back by his side. He needed her, now more than ever, personally as well as professionally. Her arm hung loosely down by his and, slowly, carefully, he moved the fingers of his right hand to brush with those of her left. He thought he heard her sigh his name as their fingers entwined and their hands clasped together, tightly, but her gaze never wavered from the candles by their feet and he wondered if he'd imagined it.

They stood that way, fingers entwined, lending strength to one another, until their feet began to ache and their bodies started to shiver from the cold. Ruth was the first to move, lifting her eyes to his as she squeezed his hand gently.

"Take me home, Harry," she said, softly.

"Of course," he replied, failing to hide the disappointment in his eyes that their time together was over. He took a step away and was surprised by the strength with which she held onto his hand.

"No," she whispered, smiling slightly at his evident confusion. "Take me home," she repeated, and waited until he met her eyes. "With you. Take me home with you, Harry."

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**Thank you for reading.**


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